


Sick Again

by NaughtyPastryChef



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Loving Sam Winchester, M/M, Men of Letters Bunker, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 18:45:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14920880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaughtyPastryChef/pseuds/NaughtyPastryChef
Summary: Just a little sick!Dean and caretaker!Sam for Izzy’s birthday. Title by Led Zepplin, because of course it is.





	Sick Again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thorkiship18](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thorkiship18/gifts).



“Told you it was a bad idea.” Sam offered softly as Dean snuffled in his bed and rubbed his snotty face onto his pillow. He was not in the mood for “I told you so” right now, even if it was offered gently.

“Sorry, Dee, that was shitty of me. What can I do to help you feel better?” Sam perched on the edge of the bed and placed his palm on Dean’s forehead to check for a temperature. Dean was burning up.

“Soup. Tissues. Chloraseptic spray. Stouffers Mac and cheese.” Dean rattled off, sounding like a pack-a-day smoker. He erupted in a coughing fit in the next second and Sam scooted closer so that he could rub Dean’s back and pass him the glass of water from the table.

“You gonna be okay for an hour while I run into town and get the stuff for you?” Sam asked, lowering his voice when he saw Dean wince.

“Got a headache too?”

Dean nodded miserably and Sam added to his shopping list. “Lemme get you some Tylenol cause it’s all we got, I’ll refill your water and get you my laptop so you can watch something while I’m gone.”

Sam was gone for only forty five minutes, deciding to hit the super Target and get everything in one stop instead of wasting time. He heated up the chicken soup and placed it on a tray with Gatorade, ibuprofen, NyQuil, tissues and the throat spray before making his way down the meandering halls of the bunker.

He stepped into Dean’s room and wished, not for the first time, that he could open a window for some fresh air; it smelled like a sick room. He carried the overloaded tray to Dean’s side and sat down, offering him the soup.

“I was thinking, we really need to air this room out and you would probably feel better if you got cleaned up a little, right? Don’t try and talk just shake your head yes or no.” Sam added hastily when Dean opened his mouth.

Dean nodded and slurped up another spoonful of soup. Sam noted that Deans eyes looked even bigger and more fresh-cut-grass green than usual.

“So finish your soup, then I’ll help you in the shower and put you in my room to sleep. I can change your sheets and wash your laundry at the same time.”

It was hard to tell under the fever-flush but it seemed that Dean blushed a little as he nodded his thanks. Dean hated being taken care of but Sam, while he hated that Dean was sick, loved the chance to pamper his brother.

It took time for Dean to finish his soup; his throat hurt bad enough that he winced  with each swallow. Eventually he was done and rinsed the ibuprofen down with half the bottle of gatorade before Sam helped him up out of the bed. Sam helped strip Dean down to his birthday suit and could help but notice that even two days of sickness showed in the way his ribs stuck out so clearly beneath his pale skin. He wrapped a towel around Dean’s waist and helped him down the hall to the shower room.

Dean couldn’t stand on his own so Sam stripped down to his boxers and stepped beneath the spray to hold Dean up as his brother, weaker than a kitten, soaped off as much of the sick-sweat as he could. By the time Dean was clean enough, they were both shaking with the strain.

“Cmon big brother. Just a little bit more and you can have my bed all to yourself.” Sam encouraged as he helped Dean into some soft, flannel pants and a worn tee-shirt. 

“Must look real bad for you to not even cop a feel in the shower, huh Sammy?” Dean asked in his raspy voice, then proceeded to have a coughing fit so bad that his legs wobbled as they tried to keep him standing.

“Well you are so sexy all the time Dean, it’s a wonder how I’m not groping you constantly. Had to find some self - control or we’d never leave the bed.” Sam snarked softly, pressing a kiss to Deans forehead.

He settled Dean onto the middle of his bed, meds and drinks within reaching distance and laptop on his lap with “Ghostbusters” queued up and dashed down the hall to start cleaning.

By the time Dean’s laundry was out of the dryer, Sam was tired. He dragged himself to his bedroom to see Dean, curled on his side in the center of the bed, blankets pulled up to his mouth, and shivering.

Exhaustion forgotten for the moment, he stripped off all his clothes and dove into the bed and curled himself around his brother, trying to impart as much body heat as he could.

“You’re burning up. If your fever doesn’t go down in the morning we’re gonna have to do an ice bath.”

Dean shook his head no and Sam laughed into his hair.

“Not a negotiation, Dee. Actually, I’ll give you the option of a- ice bath or b-hospital if your fever doesn’t go down.”

Dean shook his head again and tightened his muscles, curling into a ball in the middle of the bed and letting Sam curl even more around him.

“Do you wanna take some NyQuil so you can sleep?” He felt Dean nod through the shivers and twisted his upper body to grab the bottle off the table.

He helped dean swallow about a dose of the nasty medicine, using his thumb to wipe off the lone droplet that escaped the corner of Dean’s lips.

“C’mon Dean, sleep.” He pressed gentle kisses to Dean’s eyelids and the tip of his nose before they both settled down into the mattress.

When Sam woke in the morning his eyelids felt like sandpaper. He blinked a few times and glanced down at Dean’s sleeping form in he circle of his arms. Dean felt noticeably cooler and his face wasn’t as flushed as it had been the day before. Reassured that Dean didn’t need to go to the hospital, Sam let his eyes fall closed so that he could catch a little bit extra sleep.

The next time Sam awoke, it was to a coughing fit shaking the bed beneath him, but it wasn’t Dean, it was him.

He struggled to catch his breath between boughts of coughing, his head beginning to pound and his throat feeling like someone had rubbed sandpaper on it while he slept. When the coughing stopped he took a deep breath and lay back on the bed, shaking. He opened his eyes to see Dean’s face in front of his.

“You were right, it was a bad idea. But now it’s my turn to take care of you.”


End file.
